


How Sleep the Brave

by GravityDefyingTrenchCoat



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, mentions of assassin, post episode 11, some kayneth el-melloi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GravityDefyingTrenchCoat/pseuds/GravityDefyingTrenchCoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Castor’s lair, Waver’s not quite over what he witnessed and, unfortunately, he discovers his bond with Rider isn’t exactly a one-way deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Sleep the Brave

**Author's Note:**

> The title come from the lovely poem: How Sleep the Brave by William Collins.

The Gordius Wheel carted through the night sky as subtly as a train rolling through a station. It wasn’t a quiet device by any stretch of the imagination, but, by that point, it hardly mattered if they were heard.

  
Did Waver Velvet like the fact that they were charging low enough to be seen from the ground? No. But, after the long night he’d had, the young magus didn’t even feel the desire to scold Rider for it.

  
Not tonight at least, Waver thought from where he sat on the bottom of the oxen-driven chariot. He glanced up to his larger-than-life Servant as he handled the reigns. They had been flying for a few minutes, the night air wiping every which way, making the young magus rather cold. With his usually attire, a collared shirt and sweater, this wasn’t normally an issue, but after everything that had happened that evening with Castor’s lair and fighting Assassin, it seemed not even the memory of Rider’s desert Ionioi Hetairoi could cast off the chill.

  
Waver shivered as he sat and gathered his legs under the protection of his arms to conserve heat. Purposefully, he did not glance up to Rider’s massive form, willing himself not to look at his currently unaffected, t-shirt adorned, Servant. He did not want to catch the other’s attention and receive another one of Rider’s ‘man up’ lectures, which he probably deserved for acting so pathetic. However, after his third consecutive shudder in a row, he could feel the strong gaze of the great Iskandor’s on him.

  
“Are you cold, boy?” Rider asked, his voice full of its usual boisterous volume. Waver only glared at his kneecaps as though the act would cause him to go suddenly unnoticed.  
“N-no, now j-just take us b-back already.” Waver’s teeth chattered when he opened his mouth; he could see wisps of his breath escaping into the air, even at such a high altitude. Out of the corner of his eye, Waver saw Rider tilt his head at the dismissal, seemingly confused.

  
The broader man turned from the helm, which seemed capable of directing itself without Rider’s full attention, and he stooped down to loom over his young master.  
“What is the matter? Even after all this time we have traversed together, I have not seen you in such brooding.” Rider said with an air of fact and finality, but matched with a tinge of concern. Waver looked up at Rider, who was staring down on him in that ‘condescending manner’ he decided the warrior adopted when he didn’t know what Waver was thinking/feeling- which happened quite often. The familiar scorn of ridicule, rejection, bloomed in his chest like it had when he was at the Clock Tower and every other time he had been teased previously. An angry retort caught itself between his lips as he barked back at the question.

  
“Nothing’s wrong with me, idiot! We’ve just been gallivanting all night and I’m tired, okay?” He glanced at Rider’s shoulder, which was stained with the wine assassin had spilled upon it. Waver glared at the spot, realizing he’d probably be goaded into cleaning the infernal thing or end up buying a new one to please the King of Conquers. “Not to mention, we accomplished absolutely nothing we set out to do tonight!”

  
Rider stood up straight from his crouch, keeping his balance without the need to steady himself. He appeared to ponder Waver’s complaint, puzzled, as he responded.  
“I wouldn’t say that the night was a waste. We not only destroyed Castor’s fortress in one night, but we also have eliminated Assassin from the battle. Not to mention I got to partake in a rousing discussion with two other noble kings on the topic of virtue and knowledge!” He paused, putting his hand up to his beard, which Waver noticed he always did when mentioning an afterthought. “Although, I will admit, The King of Knight’s was significantly less impressive in ways of value and leadership qualities than I had expected, but that will make no difference for our fight I suppose…”

  
Waver rolled his eyes in exasperation. He didn’t understand Iskandor’s motivation to be so civil with their enemy.  
As a master, almost right from the start, he had known he didn’t have that much control over Rider. The man had a mindset of his own, stubborn, determined, yet, oddly honorable. A strange thing indeed for someone who had unmercifully conquered almost half of the known world in his time. From watching Rider in his noble phantasm though, Waver could see that he found great honor in the drawing of swords, but only for a benefit. Iskandor had had big dreams he wanted to accomplish in life, and his followers, descending time themselves, followed those ideals. His kingship thrived off the loyalty of his followers to his will, not the other way around. Saber though, apparently, had decided her rule would be one of more humble terms and someone as ambitious as Rider couldn’t understand that.

  
Waver shot an agitated scowl at his servant. “Look, the way I see it. We didn’t defeat Castor and get the extra seal and then-” He paused, pointing an accusing finger at Rider. “You decide to get some alcohol just to waste time talking to the enemy, no less, where we didn’t learn a single thing useful about them. And then, yes, you took out assassin, but not only have you expended a ton of mana, but you’ve also let both Saber and Archer see your noble phantasm!”

  
The redheaded hero took in Waver’s words with as much concern as he usually did- meaning, not at all. Rider shrugged and went back to handling the reigns, but his attention still on Waver.

  
“Yes, well, I suppose both of those are true. But, we have seen both of Saber’s and Archer’s abilities and I do not think the fact they have seen mine puts us strategically disadvantaged.” Waver shook his head and began rubbing at his shoulders in an attempt to warm them.

  
“And how do you figure that?” Waver asked, displeased.

  
“Why, I haven’t failed many a times in my conquests, but when it did happen, it was because I underestimated the enemy. So, now, with all of our abilities revealed, I challenge them! I DARE THEM TO UNDERESTIMATE THE MIGHTY ISKANDOR! KING OF CONQUERORS!” A hardy laugh bellowed from Rider at the end of his proclamation and the carriage began to rattle. Waver steadied himself out of freight, thinking he might tumble out. But, once gaining a firm hold onto the edge of the cart, the panic subsided. For a moment, he wanted to rebuke Rider, tell him be more careful, and remind him of his idiocy several times in one sentence. However, the desire to do so was smothered by Waver’s sheer exhaustion. In truth, he’d had many of long nights, all-nighters, back at school with his studies, but so much had happened that night it felt like he hadn’t rested in a week. His gaze turned to the rising sun as shades of pinks and oranges began to show in the dark sky.

  
“Whatever…” Waver mumbled aloud, conceding the fight. He shivered again, this time under Rider’s full attention.

  
The older man sighed, shaking his head. “You are very strange sometimes, boy. But, I can see your weariness and we are both in need of respite, so we shall have to celebrate our tactical strategies later!” He chuckled again, Waver only provided him a depleted glare. His focus turned back to the rising skyline for a brief pause, but jumped when he felt something soft rub up against his face.

  
“Wha-?” He squeaked out as he turned to see Rider holding out the red cloak that he wore with his usual mantel. To ask when he had reclaimed the cloak would be foolish since Waver had seen him summon many of his weapons and artillery from thin air, using only his mana. Waver wanted to chastise him for using up more of his strength on something so incredibly stupid, but he only had eyes for the scarlet cape that was as much a part of the conquers appearance as his armor.

  
“Here, we have a little ways back till we reach the dwelling.” Rider, without any more explanation or invitation (which he wouldn’t have been given), placed the heavy fabric over Waver’s trembling shoulders.

  
Indignant, Waver wanted to reach up and pull it off. Iskandor already called him a child- that he didn’t want to be coddled like one! Yet, just as he began to proceed in such action and yell at Rider, the warmth from the cloak enveloped him and he, instinctively, pulled it closer to his frigid body.

  
_Damn it!_ Waver thought, harshly, already feeling his cheeks blush from embarrassment. _So much for trying to to be less pathetic..._

  
The deep scowl erased the embarrassment from his face; however, he didn’t return the scrutinizing stare Rider was giving him. He was still mortified, but the sudden warmth to his body was such a physical relief that not even his pride could make him return the cowl.

  
He didn’t thank Rider though. Not when his servant was acting more like a master than he was. A real master could have kept himself warm.

  
Waver looked back up to Rider from the brim of the cloak, which was effectively serving as an overly large wooly blanket. The conquer was no longer giving any attention to him, but had his back turned, presenting a bold silhouette even in the overcast morning. In that moment, like many before, Waver questioned if Rider regretted the pact they had made with each other. They weren’t much alike, him being pathetic, weak, and untrained. And despite what Rider had declared aloud, he wondered if the other wished for a master with tenacity, bravery, and more direction in life than Waver possessed.

  
The teen shook his head, holding back the bitter sting of tears in his eyes. He wouldn’t cry like a child in defeat! His finger’s clenched the cloak, not for comfort, he told himself, yet, the feeling of its warm presence did distract- and that was enough.

  
For a while, it remained quiet as the sun peaked over the horizon and Waver began to feel drowsier as time continued. He couldn’t tell exactly how far from the house they were, but he knew they still had a bit to go. However, a question came to mind as he reflected on the night he had.

  
“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to be reincarnated?” Waver murmured loud enough to be heard. Iskandor turned, surprised by the sudden question, if not a little put off. Earlier when Waver had demanded the question, Rider had flicked him in the face and sent him flying a couple of feet for his insistent tone, acting as if he had some right to know every dream the hero possessed. Now though, the question was different. The inquiry was naturally curious with a sad undertone for not being told of such a large desire. Waver wouldn’t push tonight if he didn’t receive an answer- not tonight.

  
To his surprise though, Rider appeared skittish again, like he had with the other heroic spirits when he had declared his desires. “I suppose it’s wrong of me to desire such a thing, after such a failure like Okeanos. But…” A pregnant pause permeated the air as Waver sat there, wrapped in a cloak that wasn’t his, drowsily attentive. “Wanting another chance to rule, to live, is all I really have ever desired… at least towards the end and afterwards.”

  
Waver gazed at Rider, whose face distant in thought, and, for an instant, he caught a glimpse of the conquer who wasn’t always self-assured, who lead his men to Okeanos, but never reached it. He was seeing a man who had seen failure, even in victory. And with the glimpse, Waver inexplicably felt kinship, even if it was misplaced since his life would never be as great as the man who stood before him.

  
Indignation flooded Waver with enough strength for a witty response. “Idiot. You can’t be thinking that way when you get the grail. Otherwise, who’s going to be following you then?”

  
Rider softly chuckled in response, nodding at that. “My master, you do astound me at times. You would surely have made a great place in my army!”  
Waver shook his head at that, but ended up pressing his face deeper into the cloak, not having the energy to rebuff the statement. In the end, he fell into a light doze to the sound of Rider’s amused chuckles and the smell of Middle Eastern desert wind caught up in the cloak. And, for a moment, he felt like maybe he was a part of something.

\--------------

Waver was roughly pulled from sleep, literally, as he was hoisted up by the collar of his shirt. He blinked, in a second of panic, not realizing what was happening as he was lifted into the air. However, seeing Rider’s face on level from where he was hanging from the Heroic Spirit’s arm diminished the alarm.

  
“I-Idiot! What are you doing? Put me down!” He sputtered, pawing at the front of his shirt where his air was being slowly cut off by how he was suspended. He didn’t have to suffer long though before Rider heeded his request and he was placed on solid ground.

  
He blinked at the sensation of his feet landing on the concrete and he looked, owlishly, to see that they had arrived back at the house. The cloak managed to somehow remain on his shoulders, but it didn’t seem as cold as before with the sun completely shinning over the landscape now.

“We have arrived.” Rider announced with very little inflection. Waver’s mind, still a little dull from sleep, which he still felt drawn, faced back to his servant again.

  
“I can see that.” Waver murmured, a little irritable, but mostly still exhausted. He walked past Rider, scrunching up the cloak around his shoulders and letting it flow behind him on the ground. The heavy footsteps of the other followed close behind him in his ascent up the short stairwell to the front door. When he opened the door, he found the house inside was relatively silent, which meant Glen and Martha, despite being old and naturally early risers, hadn’t gotten up for the day yet.

  
Good, less questions I have to answer. Waver thought, wearily, as Rider closed the door behind him once they entered the dining room. For a while, Waver had attempted to hound and demand Rider into taking his spirit form when they entered the house, but his stubborn servant had blatantly ignored his wishes and been seen by his ‘family’ anyway, so there really was no point anymore.

  
Waver scuffled up the stairs and entered his room, being the first door on the left. It remained just as he had left it- a mess of books, video games, discarded potato chip bags and food wrappers littered across the floor. For once though, he wasn’t particularly bothered as he walked over it and went over to his bed. Rider followed into the room as well, not so much stepping over the clutter, but going through it with such ease that it seemed the items just moved out of there way for him. Which, if he asked Iskandor, would probably be the explanation he’d receive.

  
The young magus, when he got to his bed, reached across his dresser and pulled out a clean pair of sleepwear and peeled off the cloak, which, with its warmth, he was sad to have to return it. But not wanting to do anything as ridiculous as sleep with Rider’s cloak in his own bed, he held up the cape to the great conquer.

  
His eyes, which peered up at Rider’s face for a moment, sunk to the floor. “Uhhhmm, thanks.” One of Rider’s bushy eyebrow’s quirked a bit, but he didn’t say anything as he took the cloak back. Waver nodded to himself and then turned around and began to shed down to all but his underwear and put on clean nightwear.

  
With his eyelid’s drooping even more at the action, he managed to crawl into the generously sized bed and looked down to where Rider was now sitting on his mat on the floor, which he had insisted sleeping on because of the ‘cultural experience’ or something. The redheaded man had also stripped down to his shorts and Waver could see the discarded stained t-shirt on a pile on the floor next to him, alongside his great coveted XXXL jeans. The servant was staring at his shirt though with slight unease.  
As the other settled in, despite Waver’s tiredness, he felt he needed to say something. “I’ll try and get your shirt cleaned tomorrow. Just get some rest and focus on restoring some of your mana, idiot.” Waver replied without any heat or irritation to his words.

  
Iskandor chuckled at him, a bright smile suddenly beaming his way. “Ha! Now that sounds like treaty I can oblige to! Rest well, boy!”

  
Waver grunted, but a small smile also twitched onto his face at Rider’s cheerful expression. In response, he flopped over onto his side and fell asleep.  
\---------

_The chariot creaked to a sudden stop. Waver squinted in the dark fruitlessly attempting to make out the tall pillars in the dark. The purpose of this place seemed odd underneath the city. Possibly for water storage? Waver didn’t know but it seemed like the perfect place for a slimy, skulking, character like Castor._

  
_As he tried to deduce just what exactly Castor used this place for, Rider’s gruff voice broke out in the half-light._

  
_“Hey, boy…” Waver whipped his head around to look up at his taller servant, who he couldn’t see well in the dark. However, something about his tone caught his attention right away. Where his voice had been strong and boisterous in the throes of idyllic victory, it was now low- serious- in a way the young mage had never heard from him. “You don’t need to see this.”_

  
_Waver shook his head and threw out a hand at the nonsense. “What are you talking about!? If Castor isn’t here, we should look for some clues as to where he actually is!”_

  
_Despite Waver’s reasoning, Rider cryptically rebuffed his words again, staring straight ahead into the darkness that apparently he could see into. “You may be right, but I’m telling you don’t do it. This is too much for you.”_

  
_Waver had no idea what had gotten into his servant. No less than fifteen minutes ago the idiot had all but dragged him down to Castor’s lair as to ‘strike the enemy head on’ without delay. And now, after giving into every one of his servant’s wishes (as usual), the idiot wanted to turn back and pretend they were never there? And not only that, but he had the audacity to treat Waver like some child that couldn’t handle the grail wars. Waver didn’t know what Rider was so perturbing about Castor’s lair, but he wasn’t going to be treated like a weakling any longer._

  
_“Shut up!” He spat, taking out two capsules from his pocket and with a bit of mana he lit them as he threw them into the air. The large cavernous sewers began to illuminate in a dull green._

  
I’ll search for myself if that idiot thinks we’re just going to leave. _He jumped down from the Gordius Wheel and landed on uneven stonework. Retaining his balance though, he walked forward into the darkness, throwing up a second flair into the air to help shine more light into the room._

  
_As he did so, he continued to take a few more blind steps, scanning for something to help with the search for Castor. However, he stopped as his shoes stepped in a large puddle and it splashed up to his face. Stunned, his fingers went up to his cheek to brush the water a way. When he did so, he’s lungs froze when he saw his fingertips turn red._

  
Blood. _His realized as he looked down at his feet and stared at an object his flair was finally revealing to him. At first glance, it was an unidentifiable shape- a formless mass littered on the floor. However, as the light flickered, Waver could make out the grim sight of white porcelain skin and what appeared to be tufts of red hair. The light dimmed again before he could see more._

  
_Waver had never seen an actual dead person before, aside from his parents which both died rather unspectacularly in hospitable beds from illness. This, this was different- a dead disfigured corpse. Murdered brutally, and although Waver didn’t make out the young child’s figure too well, he could see the blood was from some horrible wounds inflicted to the face. Many other, lumps, of what once were innocent children, were also visible before the light dimmed again._

  
_At the sight of a shoe soaking in a puddle of blood, the same Waver had just stepped in, the young man retched back his hand, covering his mouth as his insides began to reel. He could smell the decay now, unsure of how he had missed it before._

  
_He darted back in cowardly panic from the horror as tears began to fall. However, instead of finding the minimal comfort of the chariot and of the presence of Rider (Who was right! Who is always right, damn it!), the darkness seemed to close in and his servant gone._

  
_Waver’s breath hitched into a sob as true panic began to set in. It was just there._ He was just there. This doesn’t make sense! _Waver’s mind darted as he tried to find the way out, but that seemed to have gone as well. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, he knew that. He knew it._

  
_Yet, Iskandor remained absent, or silent (if he was around), and everything seemed wrong. He suddenly felt like a child again, being told by the doctors that both his parents had died. It was the same hysteria from the horror, the same hot-sickly tears that wouldn’t stop. At least then though, he had had someone, his grandmother, to call. Now, apparently, he was irreparably alone in this torment._

  
_Mirroring what he had done years ago in the bathroom of some crummy hospital, he squatted down and hugged his knees up to his chest, feeling vulnerable (but more importantly pathetic) in the dark. He knew he should probably be trying to find a way out, but he didn’t know how many little bodies lay scattered around and he couldn’t bare to walk into anymore. The crippling fear kept him grounded and a sob of despair escaped his lips as he simultaneously cursed himself._

  
_Rider had been right- he was too weak for this. He couldn’t handle it, but apparently, by ignoring the warning, his consequence was to be on his own. Although, that had been a majority of his life. Joining the clock tower had been much the same, his parents had ridiculed the idea down to their lasts breaths and when he sold every worldly thing he owed to attend, it only bit him back by his constant scorn from both students and teachers about his inadequacy._

  
Which they were right about too. Everyone is also right about me. _Waver managed, inwardly, between the tears he didn’t even try to brush away. If Rider was there, he would try to hide them, but he wasn’t so it didn’t matter. Where did he go?_

  
_As Waver turned his head again in search of his missing servant, a shadow shifted in the nauseating green lighting. His eyes darted over to the spot, but was unable to see anything._

  
_Then, without warning, something grabbed his ankle. He startled at the feeling of small, cool, fingers grabbing at the bare skin where his trousers had scrunched up and his sockets didn’t cover. The touch was as cool as ice and Waver’s heart fluttered in terror when he turned his head to see the form of a child right at his ankle._  
_What, alive!? Waver thought, dazed at the sight. He reached down to touch the small figure, which seemed to be a little brown haired girl with pigtails, but just as his fingers brushed her shoulders her body slumped face forward. The frigid grip on his ankle was lost._

  
_Despite Waver never really having a wonderful affinity for children, he shifted the girl’s weight, fingering a bloodied pink blouse. He had never really drabbled into any sort of medical alchemy, but he was good at non-complex magic. Maybe he could help her, in some way._

  
_With tears still lingering in the corner of his eyes, and passages of magic he had studied rushing through he mind, he turned the girl onto her back to assess what could be done. However, his breath was swept away at the sight._

  
_The child was completely disfigured. From the back that had shown no injuries, her front was mess of slash marks cut into ribbons of bluish skin and pink cotton. Skin peeled, bruises, burns, and gleaming rows of pinkish teeth, absent of lips and cheeks, smiled almost ghoulishly back at Waver. It was a grotesque figure that had been morphed into something inhuman._

  
_At the sight, Waver dropped her back onto the floor without so much as hesitating, but could not retract his eyes from the nauseating sight that had probably at one time been a very beautiful child. Unexplainably, her eyes were undamaged and an empty blue stare came upon him._

  
_“You could have stopped this…” She gargled, as if there was blood in her mouth. Waver jumped back nearly a foot at the unexpected words from the animated corpse. “You could have saved me.”_

  
_Waver shook his head in venomous denial, but his eyes remained locked onto the eyes of the dead. “N-No, I-I didn’t know!”_

  
_Blue eyes shifted to the void above their heads. “You could have saved us, you could saved me, you could have-” She chanted these words in an unholy sort of mantra as Waver’s tears returned and he took to standing as though being on his feet would present some dominance over the statement._

  
_“No, I couldn’t! I didn’t know! I didn’t do this!” His voice was begging to end the condemnation. He wasn’t responsible, Castor was. Why was the guilt falling on him?_  
_“If you were a better magi, than I assure you this all could have been prevented.” The voice was low, and like when he had appeared before, startlingly recognizable. From the shadow of a pillar, right across from where the girl still lay reciting her blame, he stepped out from the shadows. Combed blond hair, pristine blue dress robes, and a bleach white complexion became visible immediately. And at once, Waver felt like he was back at the Clock Tower all over again._

  
_Waver sputtered at the other’s appearance. El Melloi didn’t seem to bat an eye at his surprise, he only wore the same smug expression he had when he had been reading out the faults in Waver’s paper in front of the entire class. And just like before, this pompous smirk seemed equally willing to count his inadequacies._

  
_“A strong magi understands the inner workings of all things. He sees all, he knows all, he is truly powerful.” The man said as he stepped over the ‘dead’ girl, who didn’t react at all to the man but continued to chant. Waver backed up another foot, but El Melloi stayed at a distance, disappearing and reappearing in the shadow of the flickering light._

  
_“You could have saved us-”_

  
_The man flourished a hand exactly as he did when he used to be detail something out on the blackboards in the lecture halls. “And being coupled as a Master of the Holy Gail War should only increase that power. Servants have unlimited capabilities as you can see.” He indicated to the bodies on the ground, while he greased back his hair, streaking it red with blood from his hand. “However, servants like yours should easily have been able to counteract such disasters, if they so wish.”_

  
_“You could have saved us, you could have saved us-”_

  
_The room dimmed, and when it reappeared, El Melloi was at his shoulder. Waver’s heart pounded widely at the sight of the teacher’s blood smeared face and sadistic smirk, but he couldn’t seem to move despite every instinct. “A stronger magi would have been able to find Castor’s lair without any sort of delay, and your servant could have dealt the final strike.” Waver began to feel an insoluble sickness at the words and the feeling of the other’s hot breath on his neck. “However, with you being an unworthy master and untrained novice, who can amount to nothing, I suppose this is always to be expected.” Lord El Melloi finished with a short chuckle as though he found the whole idea very amusing._

  
_“You could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us-”_

  
_“No! It’s not my fault! I-I c-ouldn’t have known. You didn’t stop this!” Waver accused, feeling the intensity of the master magi’s words on him like the weight of an executioners blade on the neck of a condemned prisoner. The other man outwardly laughed at the rebuttal, drifting away from view again. Waver spun around to follow his movements, but he remained unseen._

  
_“How do you know I didn’t know? What if I just didn’t care? Worthless children are of no interest to me, it isn’t my purpose to stop such things. But, you might have. I’m sure you feel their loss seeing as they amount to about your level of importance in this world as you.” El Melloi laughed from the gloom._

  
_“You could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us-”_

  
_Doubt at the other’s words hit him. It was true, wasn’t it? If Waver had been better, faster, more efficient at locating Castor’s lair, then this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe, if he wasn’t just a weakling mage, he could have done something. He could have defeated Castor. Iskandor definitely would have been able to if he had someone competent leading him on._

  
_Waver could feel his insides churning at the thoughts as El Melloi materialized once more a few feet in front of him, in a propped up pose with his hands behind his back. The illumination of the room seemingly to focused on his form. The dead girl that had been on the floor had vanished, but was still present in every way that mattered. “I can tell you are finally beginning to see the point! Unloved, unwanted, and not even able to carve your own way in the world- even with being in the Holy Grail War! How utterly pathetic!”_  
_“You could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us-”_

  
_The taunts continued, but Waver did nothing to discourage the words, beginning to feel himself succumbing to them. El Melloi seemed satisfied at Waver’s lack of response._  
_“Tell me, what use are you then? Why shouldn’t you be dead as well?” And with the question, El Melloi’s grin seemed to stretch to a demented length. The other man’s hands groped his own face until they gripped his forehead and pulled. Translucent skin peeled away to reveal a coating of black and a contrasting white skeletal jawbone. Hair blackened and posture changed to a shorter, hunched, creature. A shimmering dagger appeared in its hand as Waver finally recognized the appearance of Assassin._

  
_It all seemed strangely familiar now to Waver, the sudden presence of the servant. Like a past memory he couldn’t quite recall, but he knew enough that there would be no Rider to save him this time._

  
_“You could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us-”_

  
_Waver sunk to his knees, watching as other shadows shifted around him and he knew other assassin’s lingered just out of view. No escape._

  
_Terror, panic, hopelessness consumed him. He caught a glimpse of Assassin’s knife flash in front of him before he shut his eyes closed in the desire to now see anything anymore. It worked, but the torment didn’t end._

  
_“You could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us, you could have saved us-”_  
_He just wanted it to stop! He didn’t want to hear it anymore. He started his own mantra as he clenched his hands down over his ears in an attempt cease the voice of the young girl, who would not get out of his head._

  
No more, stop. No more.  
_“You could have saved us-”_

  
_He couldn’t take it._ _He just wanted everything to STOP._

  
_“You could have saved us-”_

  
No More, please. _He prayed. They went unanswered._

  
_“You could have saved us-”_

\---------------  
Waver jerked up right with a start in his bed, flinging the sheets away as though they had been suffocating him. His breaths came in uneven gulps and his heart pounded with the same inclination. Sweat clung to him like a sickly second skin, making him feel all the worse. As he scanned the room, and the nightmare began to feel less real in the daylight, he took a shuddering breath.

  
_Just a dream, idiot. Just a dream. Don’t act like a child!_ He scolded himself as he drew up the blankets to his eyes to wipe the moisture that was collecting there, despite his wishes. He held the scratchy fabric against his face, trying to allow his own sweaty musk to wipe away images of dead children, arrogant professors, and shadowy assassins. His efforts were unsuccessful though, only causing his breath to hitch again.

  
Pathetic. Hardly any of that was real. I shouldn’t be like this. Waver stressed, inwardly. Yet, he knew he did believe all of it. He did feel guilty for those children, he knew he wasn’t good enough- Rider probably should have just let assassin end his miserable existence and gotten himself a new master. Anyone who wasn’t him.

  
Waver clutched the blanket tighter, willing it stop the onslaught of emotion, but combined with the bitter thoughts and lingering emotions from the nightmare, it didn’t stop anything. He could feel, real, hot tears trail down his cheeks against his wishes. And with them, the desire for comfort also came too. His parents themselves had never been the most loving people, but they had never once, in his whole youth, let a tear go shed without some kind of reassurance. They had both been gone a long while now and such a feeling hadn’t come around in years, yet, it did nothing but make breathing hard knowing he was alone.

  
His breath caught as he realized something though. He wasn’t, actually, quite alone. Waver sat, frighteningly still, as he listened for the sound of the Conquers deep snores. The two of them were very different, but over the short weeks Waver had begun to pick up on some of his servant’s habits. His aggressive snoring was one of them- it was actually one of many complaint Waver had about Iskandor, but he kept silent about it since it was relatively low on the long list.

  
He waited, willing any sound to cease from himself as he waited for the tell-tale snoring. After a short time, sitting in silence, Waver pulled back the quilt from his face… and made direct eye contact with Rider. Waver jumped in surprise, not having expected the Heroic Spirit to be awake. He rubbed at his face, venomously, to hide the tears (which were undoubtedly noticed) as embarrassment began to color his face.

  
He threw the quilt down. “W-What are you doing awake!?” Waver spat, anger rising from the embarrassment he felt about this whole situation. Iskador always managed to catch him at his weakest; he had no idea why the conquer still stuck around at all. And though he had said otherwise before, he probably did regret staying.

  
Waver provided a pathetic glare through puffy red eyes as had to drag another hand across his face to stifle more tears. His emotions were in such a whirlwind from the dreams, his thoughts, and the mortification of being caught in this state that he couldn’t even tell what was truly causing his insides to churn in anguish.

  
Rider didn’t say anything though, didn’t move. In fact, his figure appeared no different than one of his statues from any one of the museums dedicated to him. His eyes though were scrutinizing Waver as though he were preparing for battle. Whatever he was considering, Waver knew he didn’t want to hear it. Why was Rider even awake anyway?

  
Iskandor had no reason to still be up at all. The hero’s mana was low enough where he would need rest and he usually slept like a log. Albeit, a noisy one from all snoring, but a log all the same. Only a few days ago, Waver had had to prod and poke his servant awake and that had been after Glenn and his wife had awaken had begun making a racket down stairs in the kitchens, which had waken the young mage up to begin with. By experimentation, Waver had gone about his morning routine, being as loud as possible, and still hadn’t managed to rouse Rider. Neither had the TV, nor the radio, nor anything else Waver had tried. It was only until the small mage had to psychically shake the giant oaf awake did he respond to any outside stimuli. When Waver had questioned him on his dead sleep, Rider only dismissed it. Thus, Waver had discovered Rider was a deep sleeper.  
So, there should be no possible why he heard me! No way at- Waver froze as he thought of something. Okeanos.

  
He had experienced a few times Rider’s dream-fantasy of a far off shore he would never reach. In forming a pact between master and servant, a link was established between the two- mostly to provide and share magic, but Waver had noted that other things got ‘exchanged’ in the link like these dreams. He knew he was seeing Rider’s dreams was normal, but never did he think that it wasn’t a one-way deal. Clearly, he was wrong.

  
Waver felt a livid sort of desperation as his hands balled up his blanket in tense fists. “You shouldn’t have seen that! You had no right to see that!” Waver yelled, not really sure why frustrated tears peaked out the side of his eyelids. Iskador’s expression didn’t change at the accusation, which all about confirmed it for Waver.

  
“Do you finally see how pathetic I am now? Are you going to tell me I’m just a child again, like everyone else?! Are you ashamed to have me as your master now?!?” Waver wasn’t sure why he was saying any of this. A part of him knew that at nineteen, Rider probably didn’t expect much from him anyway- the other had hinted at it many times. And, it wasn’t like he wanted a confession about how pitiful he was. He just knew it was coming, and knew he shouldn’t hide from it despite the fact he wanted to pretend otherwise.  
Waver dragged another aggravated swipe across his face to try and unsuccessfully stifle some emotion. As he did so, he heard Rider’s heavy footsteps lumber over to his bed. Waver didn’t acknowledge him, the shame settling his shoulders quite easily even against the hollow anger he was implementing to hide it.

  
Waver looked up at his massive servant, whose expression still hadn’t really shifted from contemplation. That only insured to piss Waver off more.

  
“What!?” Waver snapped, throwing a hand out as though he wanted to actually physically strike something. “Don’t you have anything to say, idiot!? You clearly do, so just tell me and get lost, go find yourself a new mast-”

  
He was stilled, and silenced, by the rough, yet warm, hand of Iskandor being placed upon his head. Waver’s eye twitched in annoyance as it always did when his servant did this to shut him up because it simultaneously made him feel small and powerless in face of Rider. This time though, unlike usual, he did not squirm or attempt to push off the grip.  
“Hush, boy.” Iskandor finally spoke, breaking his silence. Waver, slightly indigent, and very much still filled with distress over everything that had taken place, did not speak up with his usual insults at the command. Something in his servant’s voice demanded his attention, and Waver felt (like he would occasionally) that he was actually listening to a King, not just his servant who enjoyed video games and other useless frivolities.

  
“I would like to regale a story from my youth to you.” Rider spoke, removing his hand from the top of Waver’s head. The larger man only clad in his tights plopped down on the edge of Waver’s bed, causing the mattress to groan in discomfort at the added weight. Glaring, but saying nothing, Waver merely scooted back against the headboard of the bed and pulled his arms around his legs, clutching his stripped Pajama bottoms unsure of why he wasn’t continuing to snap at Rider.

  
“Whatever.” Waver mumbled, too exhausted to care. He had already announced any possible slights against himself- nothing Rider said would really hurt him (much). Although, he didn’t know why the moron was dancing around the fact with this ‘story’ he wanted to tell, but Waver had already decided his servant was weird. Lucky him.  
Rider’s mouth twitched into a less steady version of his usual beaming smile. Although, Waver couldn’t see an emotion that would be the cause of that- not even disappointment or pity, both of which he had expected.

  
“Excellent! Then I shall begin in discussing one of my earlier accomplishments.” Waver could care less, but Rider seemed pressed to talk and Waver, after his outburst of emotion, didn’t. He felt himself shutting down a bit, emotionally, but he didn’t begin to tear up again and he managed a listening ear. “Back when I was a much younger, untrained man, I was given many sparing partners under my tutorage. As I grew, more fearsome opponents were presented to me and, eventually, I bested them all.” Waver’s eyes drooped in a lazy, half-hearted, glare but said nothing. _Gee, just what I wanted to hear. Another one of Rider’s extravagant stories about how he is the greatest Conquer to have walked the earth. Wonderful._

  
Rider continued on, ignoring any potential unflattering facial expressions Waver gave. “My father saw it fit to begin my noble duties to Macedona outside of the royal court and he lead me to get a glimpse of what conquest actually entailed. The city itself wasn’t a large, or a particularly well-developed place, but the men were fearsome fighters- almost savage in nature.”

  
Rider reclined back a bit on the bed, bring his legs up so that they crossed on top the mattress. “I took great pride in running my blade through every man I encountered.” Rider uttered, with probably more glee than Waver would have liked about the subject, but Iskandor was a strong fighter that had carved his way into history with such actions. “And once we had taken care of all of our foes, we went to their halls to celebrate our victories with their own stores; however, there, we encountered the rest of the population that had taken into hiding- women, children, the old and such. At great deal of them had been held there, I suppose in the hope their men would claim victory and they would return. However, that was not the case…”

  
Rider’s expression darkened a bit, and Waver’s curiosity was peeked a bit as he forgot momentarily about his own night terrors. He wasn’t well aware of much of Iskandor’s past, not having done extensive research on him before summoning the noble spirit, but at times like these he wish he had. He really didn’t know where Rider was going with this, but he didn’t interrupt.

  
Rider took a solemn breath, as though in preparation. “In reflection upon ones action, I suppose alternatives could have been worse for those women and children, but we had our order- ‘take no one alive’.”

  
Waver’s mouth dropped at that, but he clenched it shut again, badgering himself. Of course he did such things, Iskandor had conquered and plundered over half of the known world in his time! That shouldn’t be a surprise to him. Yet, Waver guessed he had a different image of his servant who played video games in the late night hours and eating bags of potato chips on his floor. And despite seeing Rider’s noble phantasm in action, it was hard to connect the Iskandor Waver was familiar with to the other- though it was particularly hard when the idiot wore that ridiculous t-shirt.

  
“At first, I refused,” Rider continued in the moment of silence that had ensued, “I had never slain anyone purely defenseless and I did not understand why my Father would not want them as bounty from battle. However, the other men had very little inclination to disobey the orders directly from a king- not after the punishment they’d seen dealt. So, they begin to start slaughtering all of them.”

  
Rider paused again and looked down at his hand, with an uncharacteristically burdened crinkle upon his brow. “At first, I didn’t join in. I merely watched as they tore apart the old, slew the women, and beheaded the children. I didn’t want to act, but, thinking it was for the greater good of Macedona, I joined in. I don’t know how many I slaughtered, how many screamed and begged for forgiveness and begged for reprieve. And, it was done by my hand.”

  
Waver stared at the hand Iskandor was looking at, his sword hand, but clearly was not seeing the same guilty blood upon the other. Waver didn’t know what to say though, and he wasn’t sure he was supposed to. He kept silent as the other continued.

  
“I felt sickened by the deed, I would not drink at the tables in celebration among the scattered corpses of the dead. Yet,” Rider paused again, breathing out a heavy sigh. “I realized I felt no regret.”

  
Waver’s eyebrows shot up in confusion, but Rider didn’t provide any room to comment. “Conquers do what they must for the good of their people, so that their people respect and strengthen their leader. I have seen and been a part of many horrors of such nature, but to keep the pact between my purpose and my people- it was a necessary evil. As I explained to the King of Knights, a king is the embodiment of their people’s wills and endures the hardest challenges, while they, in equal devotion, are willing vessels to follow and die in battle- if need be.”

  
Rider turned to look at Waver for the first time since he began his reminiscent. His eyes were a glow with purpose. “Our lives are a battle boy, yours is and will be even after the grail war. Travesties and destruction will come at you from all sides- and it will be difficult, impossible at times. It is not wrong to feel disgust and anguish. I grieve for the lives I have taken, but I focus on the greater purpose. Do you understand me, boy?”

  
Waver’s nose wrinkled and the sudden desire to throw something at Iskandor’s head became enticing. However, the closest object was a pillow, which would not bring enough satisfaction. “Easy for you to say, being the great hero you are! I have no ‘greater purpose’ to follow. I’m pathetic, remember? A weak mage with no future ahead of him.”  
Waver sighed at the truth in that, but Iskandor leaned over, appearing exasperated himself for a second. Then, getting a little uncomfortably close to Waver, Iskandor let out an unexpected grin. “A future is only what you make it out to be. Your purpose is what matter’s, not your abilities.”

  
He leaned back and captured Waver’s head once again with a hand. The young magus did squirm this time, irritated, in which Iskandor only chuckled again. “Listen well, boy.” He sobered up and Waver stilled, tilting his head down with a defeated grimace upon his face.

  
He was tired of listening! He was tired of Rider’s pointless story and he didn’t want discuss his ‘purpose’. He just wanted to be let go, and have Rider tell him the damn truth already instead of being a distracting nuisance!

  
“What more could you possibly have to say?” Waver bit back, not getting the point. Rider sighed at that, finally looking as though he were going to be direct.

  
“So impatient you are. Fine, I will say this again- I do not look down upon you for exhibiting emotion now or in Castor’s lair. Being moved in the mites of horror, it is not a weakness. Humanity is never a weakness, only choosing what you do with it does.” Rider shook his head under his hand, making Waver give a small cry in surprise. “And don’t make me remind you again about conquering this world! You and I are fighting a big enemy- size does not matter and your skills are only beginning to be established. So, relinquish this self-punishment, and follow me!”

  
Waver grabbed at his servant’s hand upon his head and stilled the movement. However, instead of trying to pry off the grip, he held on as his eyes became downcast. Rider’s skin was warm to the touch and Waver suddenly found it oddly comforting. Why did Rider keep insisting he could do something? He’d seen everything- the nightmare included. Waver still didn’t understand why the other hadn’t rejected him and left already. Yes, he understood Rider had some kind of delusion of conquering the world together, but he didn’t understand why him after all the weakness he’s displayed.

  
“I don’t understand,” He retorted at last, tears once again in his eyes, but not from anger or sadness this time. More, they came because of the confusion at the sincerity of the other’s words.

  
Rider sighed, looking up in exasperation. “You really are slow at getting the point, boy. Oh well, I suppose I was once equally that way.”

  
He peered down at Waver, serious again. “As I said before to Lancer’s master, you are my master and only one such as yourself is brave enough to ride out with me in battle can claim such a title- that other magus held very little honor. Your weakness is a humbling tool used to sharpen your wit and will improve your skills. Now cease your wallowing, for your future is vast and with our strengthened bond we will prevail and conquer the battle field in this war and hence forth after!” Rider clenched his free hand in the declaration, his voice bellowing as though he were spurring on an entire army to battle instead of just one young man.

  
Waver’s heart lifted at the words though. No one had ever said such things to him before. His parents hadn’t condoned his desires about his futures, his classmates and professor’s didn’t believe in his ability, and he’d been too caught up trying to single-handedly prove the previously mentioned groups wrong he had never had a friend. Yet, here was Rider, who was supposed to singly be his servant that he controlled, affirming all of these things he’d no one had ever told him before. And for some reason, even though it shouldn’t, the thought made him feel better- that empty ache in his heart receded and the nightmare seemed distant.

  
The tears welled up even more from an almost foreign emotion and Waver swiped at them, even more embarrassed of them now than when they had been out of fright. Rider looked confused. “More tear, what could possibly have upset you now?”

  
Waver, finally, batted at the hand on his head, turning away as he let out a little bit of a stifled sniffle, but managed to keep his emotions under relative control. “S-Shut up!” He stuttered, but felt victorious when the heroic spirit removed the hand on his head.

  
“Fine, fine. I grow tired of dwelling on this anyway.” Waver had to agree on that. Although, he did appreciate Rider at the moment, he was beginning to wish he could just go back to sleep and forget about the whole thing. He glanced over to the digital clock on the nightstand for the first time noting he had only had about three hours of sleep since they arrived back. The magus groaned knowing that this was going bite him in the butt, although, he wasn’t too keen on going back to sleep and allowing Rider another full walkthrough of his brain, but he needed the rest and Rider definitely needed it as well after using up so much mana.

  
I’ll have to risk it. Waver mentally groaned, dragging a hand loosely through his hair in an attempt to calm himself.

  
“Look it’s still early, why don’t-” Waver begins before he is cut off by the bed shifting as Rider reclined onto his back. He looked ridiculous, with only part of body able to fit, his legs dangled over the edge. However, for whatever, reason, he didn’t seem very motivated to move.

  
“H-Hey! What are you doing! You can’t go to sleep here! Get off the bed!” Waver demanded, with a lame kick from under the sheets at Rider’s muscular shoulder. He didn’t really expect the servant to budge, but he certainly didn’t want Rider to stay- he could see an attempt to coddle him when it presented itself. He had already allowed it too many times tonight, although, truthfully, he hadn’t really been defending himself much at all.

  
Rider looked up at Waver again, his scarlet eyes relying more emotion than Waver could identify. “Just rest, boy.” The Conquer closed his eyes at that just before Waver could produce a pout. He sighed and glanced over to Rider’s abandoned mat, deliberating on whether he should move to sleep on that instead. He didn’t really want to rest on it though- he never liked the idea of eastern style beds. That was the whole reason he had had a real bed put in the same day he ‘moved’ in Glenn and his wife’s house.

  
Waver sighed, giving up the idea. He looked to Rider again, remaining still. Thinking about the last few minutes, he realized what Rider had done for him and he felt the urge to thank him. However, his pride wouldn’t allow it and he didn’t know how Rider would react to such a thing- and he didn’t need any more goading for the night. He peeked over to Rider’s mat again, noticing the discarded blanket. With a sigh, he pulled back his covers and tumbled out of the bed. He shivered a bit as his feet made contact with the cold wood of the floor, but only paused for a second before waddling over to pick up the discarded blanket. Unexplainably, despite not being used for quite a few minutes, the blanket still held a reminder of warmth. He walked back over to the bed and nudged the comforter against his bare-chested servant.

  
“If you are going to stay there,” Waver muttered as Rider opened his eyes to look at him. “Here.”

  
Waver held up the blanket, like a peace offering- an unspoken apology and thanks woven into the material. The young magus wouldn’t speak his gratitude, for the comfort he had been given, but he at least wanted to do this.

  
Rider merely stared at the offering in Waver’s offering and chuckled, plucking it from the younger’s hands. The thing, despite being the largest comforter he could find in the house, still barely covered the massive man though, but he folded it over himself anyway and lay back down.

  
Waver lingered a moment before going back to the side of the bed, determining what he should do. Rider was taking up the end half of the bed, so lying back down like he had been before was out of the question. For once though, his shorter stature might be of good use. He pulled his own crumpled sheet and pillow and laid them on the far side of the bed, against the wall. He crawled back into the bed, lying next to the large hero, who clearly wasn’t asleep since his telltale snoring was absent.

  
Waver settled down, feeling suddenly lethargic, but not nearly as annoyed or agitated as he thought he should for having half of his bed stolen. Rider was a blaze of heat even though, somehow, they weren’t actually touching on the narrow bed. And after the chill from earlier and the darkness of his dream, it felt good. It also reminded him of sun kissed desert.

  
“Night.” He finally murmured, in the half-light, unsure of why he blabbered something so stupid considering it was neither night nor the first time the two had retired for bed either.

  
A low chuckled emanated again and the bed shifted again as Rider’s hand again met his head, saying more of a response than words would have been. Waver sighed, but didn’t push the hand off.


End file.
